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But this? Him wanting to get me pregnant has me majorly side-eyeing him. What makes him think I’m going to be sticking around for that long? I don’t even understand why I’m living in their house, eating their food, and staying in their bed.
Yeah, you do. Your monster demanded you to. A little voice says in the back of my mind. Not to mention the contract.
Fuck, but not really.
Jericho took me long before my monster had anything to say about it. I’m under contract. Which is bullshit, anyway. I could walk out of their house without true legal recourse. But I’m stuck. With a man who apparently wants to impregnate me. Ten times over. Remind me to keep his dick as far away from me as possible and to book an appointment with my gynecologist for extra measure.
I shiver when Arrow runs his tongue along the side of my face, humming to himself.
“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” he whispers directly in my ear. “I’m going to fuck you every chance I get. Every hour. Every day. My cock is going to live deep in your pussy, filling you until cum is falling down your legs. Then, I’m going to scoop it back inside you and plug you up again. None of my lil swimmers will escape.”
I shiver at his words. Should I want to push him away and yell ew? Yes, yes I should. But do I? No. Why, you ask? Because apparently, I've fallen into a new kink.
My heart rate picks up. My damn pussy responds to his call like the hussy she is. I’m blaming my stupid period hormones. I’m just horny. That’s it. But you got laid earlier—that stupid voice in my head rings out. And it was hot as hell. The way I tasted freedom beneath Shepp’s gentle fingertips was liberating, to say the least. And his voice. He could talk me to sleep or through an orgasm, any day.
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Thanks, Arrow. I’ll add that to the list of things that turn me on. Run through the woods while being chased by them? Check. I was scared as all get out, but when I realized it was them, my pussy fucking wept for it.
So, maybe the breeding part is hot as fuck. Please, fill me with all your cum and pamper me afterwards. But the actual pregnancy? Scares the utter shit out of me. I wouldn’t make a good mom. I’ve been conditioned for years to be on my toes and be at my monster’s beck and call.
How could I possibly become a parent with him around? Easy—a little voice quips—stab him in the eye until he’s dead on the floor. Yeah, easier said than done. He’d probably be impossible to kill. Like the big bad at the end of a video game.
“I’m not ready to be a parent,” I mutter, falling underneath his stupid spell.
I should be kicking him in the nuts as we meander through the store with his arm draped over me with possession. But then he leads me to the ice cream, and I’m a goner. It’s my favorite thing to eat when I’m on my period. Or when my IUD gives me the symptoms of a period but doesn’t actually show. Which is bullshit, by the way. If you’re going to make my boobs hurt, give me irritability, and make me want to shank a bitch—at least let me bleed.
I guess that’s what the ice cream is for. It soothes the rage inside me until my hormones settle down and I’ve returned to the normal me. Whatever that is.
“Let’s get you some cookies and cream.” Without even confirming it’s my favorite ice cream, he pulls it out of the freezer and hangs onto it along with my tampons and ridiculous pads.
“How’d you know that was my favorite?” I ask, narrowing my eyes when he leads me down the chocolate aisle.
“Because that’s what I do, Kitten. I know everything about you. Cookies and Cream is your favorite ice cream. Along with Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. And peanut butter M&M’s are your favorite treats. Hmm. Do you have a thing for chocolate or peanut butter? I could slather myself in both and let you lick it off.” He grins, tossing two large bags of both treats into my hands with a chuckle while I stare at him in surprise. “Sheppard makes your favorite foods. Well, I know your favorite snacks. That makes me better,” he quips, dragging me down the sweets aisle. “We’re going to need a cart soon. Oh, how about some of your favorite sweet wine?” he asks, dragging me again.
“Shepp knows my favorite meals?” I ask, cocking my head when Arrow pulls down two bottles of my favorite sweet, pink, bubbly wine and puts them under his arms.
How? Oh, because he's my stalker. Duh.
He’s stuffing things into his hands left and right—all for me. He's like the perfect book boyfriend I've read about, except he's kind of murdery and off the wall.
“You act like you don’t know we’re obsessed with you, Kitten.” He winks at me with a grin, humming under his breath still.
“But why?”
He halts us completely and cocks his head. “Because you’re ours.” He shrugs it off again, moving us forward until we’re at the cashier, and he sets all the stuff down. “You always have been. Always will be. If you die. I die. If someone hurts you. I hurt them ten times over. Like that guy in your bedroom. He screamed so loud when I broke his fingers.”
He says everything so matter-of-factly, like this is common knowledge, and I should just get used to the fact that these three mafia guys are utterly head over heels for me. I won't even touch the new information about a guy in my room with a ten-foot pole. I remember the pictures that were left for me.
“Thank you,” the cashier squeaks, handing us our bags with haste after Arrow hands him the exact amount for our purchases.
My brows furrow on the pale-looking man slowly backing away from the cash register, eyeing Arrow like he’s terrified.
“But what makes me so special?” I ask as we head out to the SUV where Jericho and Shepp sit, having a conversation.
“Everything makes you special, Kitten. It was fate. So, don’t question it. Okay?” His voice dips lower when he makes that demand before opening the back door for me. “All right! We got the pussy plugs, the ice cream, the chocolate, and the wine. Let’s go home and eat.” Arrow chuckles, side-eyeing me while wiggling his brows.
“What are we eating?” I ask, just as my damn stomach growls like it hasn’t eaten all day.
